We had a name. We had poets. We had an idea of publishing some of the best contemporary poetry around. What we didn't have was a rationale.
With a name like 'The Shit Creek Review' several things came to mind: the idea that we as poets are often up the proverbial creek as far as publication is concerned, because there are those whose tastes just don't match with ours; there is the notion that poetry often takes itself far too seriously, and with a name like this one, we thought it would act as a memento mori: to remind us not to be overly hubristic about what we do. In the end, we just didn't want to take ourselves too seriously: we left the seriousness for the poetry. For, as someone somewhere probably once said: 'A zine is only as good as the poets in it.'
As the poetry poured in it became clear that there is a lot of edgy, difficult - even dangerous writing that perhaps more self-conscious zines wouldn't touch with someone else's bargepole - especially in form. The name seemed to attract it. Here was the rationale. Like the Muse, it came round the house wearing a pair of heavy-duty size tens and did some GBH of the aesthetic. The idea was in search of the magazine with editors sufficiently sociopathic/courageous/delirious (delete as appropriate) to pull it off.
In our initial edition we hope that we've proved that talented people can have an edge that other places might not seem ready to accept. We think we have.
Paul Stevens
Nigel Holt
November 2006
The awesome moment of the inception of The Shit Creek Review may be contemplated here at the Gazebo Poetry Forum (as long as the link lasts). Best viewed while listening to Richard Strauss' Also Sprach Zarathustra.
